Touchy
by WithoutAnyShame
Summary: Will/Johnny. Because that's how I roll. Johnny's a touchy drunk. Will's not an idiot. Will's POV
1. Touchy

**A/N: First three stories, publishing them all in one go. Be warned, I've got a thing for Will. I have a tattoo, and a thing for Will. So you won't always get SaintJesus. **

Johnny's a touchy drunk. That's not to say he's a feisty drunk or a slutty drunk.

He's just a touchy drunk.

So, it's normal that he's reaching for the lid of Tunny's hat after two beers. What's not normal is that I'm still sober enough to be pissed off about this. I'd been ranting about the tax on cigarettes or some bullshit and hadn't opened my own can yet.

Usually, by the time Johnny gets touchy, I'm as tipsy as he is and I think it's hilarious, regardless of who he's touching. Tunny's not even paying attention when Johnny leans against him and starts laughing his ass off over managing to get the hat off of Tunny's head.

But I'm watching, and starting to figure that this weird jealousy has to do with Johnny being "the" best friend.

Odd numbered groups usually run across the awkward realization that proves who the favorite is. What I'm trying to say is that, if you ask Tunny or I who our best friend is, we'd both answer Johnny. And when you don't know who your best friend's best friend is, it's a bit of a competition.

So I like to think that this is why I hold up a pack of cigarettes and offer them to Johnny, who sits up and tilts my way now. Tunny's not drunk enough to think my offer is normal and he shoots me a look that's somewhere between confused and repulsed.

A few minutes later, when I've got a hand in Johnny's hair and I'm thinking that he smells like a forest fire between the cigarette smoke and pine-scented cologne, I can tell Tunny is still confused. And by the time I mumble some joke quiet enough that only Johnny can hear it, Tunny looks suspicious.

Which makes me suspicious, because I'm still sober and I know that friends don't usually try to be the favorite. And they sure as hell shouldn't get a rush just because you look up at them and smile before you start laughing.

When Tunny looks back at the table, I know he's counting the empty cans and thinking that, if any, I've had one beer.

So I sit up quickly and reach for the remote without looking at Johnny, who flails a bit from being knocked off balance and ends up leaning back against Tunny.

And then I start bitching about Jerry Springer, so that I can pretend they're both only looking at me like I'm crazy because I harbor such an intense hatred for that show.


	2. Wingman

**A/N: This is like, the fourth chapter of something I've updated in one night. I'm being ridiculous. Oh well, enjoy more WillJohnny. This one ties in a bit with the third chapter of "The Solution".**

People tend to think I'm an idiot, but I know I'm far from stupid. I just keep my mouth shut most of the time, because things are easier when people think you're stupid. Teachers don't call on you in class, your parents don't bitch too much about your grades, and your friends don't notice when you're being manipulative.

This made it incredibly easy to get Johnny to kiss me. Once I'd accepted that I had a thing for him, I started plotting. I like to think I can't be blamed, because it's not like I could just kiss him, and even if I did it's not like I could keep things from getting fucked up between us. I had to be smart about it if I ever wanted the chance.

So I waited until the opportunity arose. It didn't take very long, I just had to wait until we ended up tipsy at a party, sitting in a circle with Heather and a few of her friends. And when you've been to enough parties with drunk girls, you know exactly how a dare is going to play out. You're going to suggest they kiss, and they're going to say they will if you will. Which is how we got to me pleading with Johnny.

"Hey, come on, it's Heather, Johnny. You're my best friend and you're going to keep me from seeing Heather kiss a girl?" I protested, and Johnny hazily stared back on me before nodding firmly, jaw set.

"I'm your wingman," Johnny affirmed, still looking incredibly proud of himself for being a good friend.

I didn't factor in just how weird it was to have people watching you kiss someone. Kissing Johnny wasn't exactly what I thought it would be, with him barely reacting and with a group of tittering girls right next to us. Even then, it was exciting as hell, but it wasn't what I wanted it to be.

About an hour later, I was sitting on the top of the staircase, far drunker than earlier and not exactly trusting myself to walk down the stairs. I was surprised when Johnny came barreling up the stairs, tripping himself a few times and laughing when he stumbled.

"Will! What are you doing up here? Heather's downstairs," he slurred, lowering himself onto the step below me and half-collapsing against my legs.

"Ah, I can't act too interested, right? Girls don't like that," I responded, trying to keep from smiling too hard when Johnny started lolling his head from side to side.

"But I'm your wingman, I'm supposed to get you some. Hah, wait, I gave you some, I didn't get you some," he rambled on, his mind making drunken leaps I couldn't follow.

"What the hell are you even saying?" I asked, an eyebrow raised as I leaned in to stop him from shaking his head.

"We kissed. That's you getting some. Just…a weird kind," he answered, beaming and sure of himself.

"Doesn't really count, though, it doesn't count if it's a dare," I explained.

"Well, we might as well make it count," he shrugged before he closed the distance between us and clumsily shoved his tongue into my mouth for the second time that night. And this time, it was the way I wanted it to be. We stayed on the top of the steps kissing like that for about a minute or so before he moved back to his step.

"There. Still the very best wingman," he declared before pulling himself back to a standing position using the handrail.

"Yeah, that's…You're the best wingman," I managed to say, still watching him.

Of course, with my luck, the next morning he remembered that he was the greatest wingman that ever lived, he just never remembered why.


	3. Alone

Maybe I really am stupid. Because after that night at the party, I started to think I had a chance. But when Heather and I got together, I stopped thinking about it so much. Stopped thinking about my chance, that is, I still thought about Johnny more than I really should have.

I'm not a bad guy, though. And I swear, I really did love Heather. I never thought about Johnny as anything more than a friend when I was with Heather. It's when I was alone that I'd think about Johnny. I'd think about how we'd probably be good for each other because we've always known each other. There aren't any stupid secrets between us, no embarrassing stories, because we were always with each other. We were there for all of the stories.

No, that's wrong, there's the one secret. Johnny still has no idea that we ended up making out at some party on a dirty ass set of stairs. He has no idea that I wanted to, and that I'd do it again if I could. And so, even when I was dating Heather, I knew I wanted Johnny. I guess part of dating her was trying to convince myself that I could be happy without Johnny.

I was wrong. I was completely wrong, and I only really figured that out when Johnny and Tunny left me and suddenly, I was alone with Heather. She started annoying the hell out of me, just by being around when they weren't. I was stuck with her, though, because I fucked up when I fucked her, and isn't that just wonderful irony?

And maybe I could have put up with thinking about Johnny all the time if he at least thought about me. One letter. That's all I got to prove that Johnny was thinking of me at all. One short, quick letter after he had been gone for three weeks. A thoughtless "Wish You Were Here" and that was that. But unlike him, I spent my time thinking about him. Thinking about the city. Thinking that if Johnny and I had ended up a thing, I wouldn't have a fucking kid in my near future. I would never have to be a father, and I'd be spending every day with my best friends.

Thinking back I realize what an ass I was for thinking our lives were so fucking horrible. I'd do anything to go back to spending every night hanging around my apartment with Johnny and Tunny, bitching about whatever came up. Instead, I get to listen to Heather bitching at me for never helping her. What does she even want from me? It's not my fault that the condom broke, it's not my fault that she wanted to keep the baby. But it is her fault that I'm not with them, it's her fault that I'm sitting on this couch and trying to stay high enough that I won't think about how much I miss the best friend who isn't missing me.

I still get so excited when I think I see him down at the convenience store. Floppy dirty blonde hair never used to make my heart race, and I didn't think it ever would. There's nothing I can do but wait for him to come back. To hope that he comes back at all. Or at least he could write again, tell me that he misses me, but I hope he doesn't just start telling me how perfect and wonderful and great his life is even if I'm not with him.


	4. Glory

Once upon a time, I lost everything. I lost my two best friends, I lost my girl, and I even lost the kid I never wanted. But even after losing everything, I apparently retained my ability to be absolutely euphoric.

Johnny finally came back from the city. He came back, and I found him when I was out on a beer-run. There he was, thinner and paler and far twitchier, but it was Johnny. He was in middle of telling a story to a bunch of the usuals when he looked up and saw me. And when he smiled, I realized just how much I missed that expression.

He barreled towards me and when we hugged, it was easy to lift him off of the ground. Easier than it should have been, and I should have started to worry right then, but my mind was too full of sheer ecstasy that I wasn't thinking much of anything. When I set him down, he leaned into me, laughing just because he was happy and I had to remind myself that it was okay to let go, that he wasn't just going to run off again.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," he said and I just grinned and shook my head, smart enough to keep my mouth shut and not tell him off for thinking he could have possibly missed me the way I missed him.

It wasn't until I was sitting on a beat up car and listening to Johnny tell his stories that I started to notice just how different he looked. He wasn't just pale, he looked tired. Not a healthy, missed a night of sleep tired, but a real tired with dark, sunken eyes. He moved more than he used to, fidgeting with his coat and with his hair. His eyes didn't stay still either. He wasn't making eye contact with anyone in the group; he just kept glancing around, looking worried, almost afraid.

I stopped thinking about all of this, though, when Johnny started talking about Saint Jimmy. At first, I knew I was jealous. When he talked about Jimmy, Johnny got that far off look in his eyes, something between star-struck and something I couldn't place. He talked and talked about Saint Jimmy and it killed me, because I could almost recognize him. Jimmy sounded like everything we talked about being. It seems like with him, Johnny ended up being all the things we were always too afraid to be back home. Hell, I could almost predict where his stories would end just because I knew how we would have wanted things to go. And when it came to Jimmy, it sounded like everything happened just the way we dreamed it would.

There was something else there, though. Something dark that made Johnny look uncomfortable. Even though I hadn't seen him in a year, I still knew Johnny well enough to know when he was leaving something out. I knew when he wasn't telling the whole truth, but censoring himself to make things sound better.

When he talked about his girl, though, he only looked regretful. He talked about her the way I thought about him, idealized and wonderful. At least now I knew why he never wrote, he was busy. Without me and without Tunny, he managed to get on with life and start living like he had dreamed. He looked lovesick talking about her, even after he admitted he fucked things up and they had been over for a while now. I couldn't blame him, though, I knew what it was like to be completely in love with someone who you hadn't made contact with in ages.

Hell, Tunny did better than Johnny or I ever could. When Tunny showed up, he didn't come alone. Things weren't normal, not at all, but we used to be close, which made it seem like it was worth a try to patch things up and try to get back to normal.

So I just listened to their censored stories and waited for our normal crowd to disperse and head home before I asked them to come talk to me for real. Just like old times, except I was the only one who hadn't changed. Things can't go on the same when everyone else has grown up, but I wanted so desperately to get back what I lost.


End file.
